This is the smile I want on that obituary photo. I told myself as I looked into the mirror with my facial muscles twitching for the ultimate expression. It was the second day in the ICU. The nurse looked at her watch and then towards me. It was time to go. If that driver’s seasoned leg had applied that extra pressure on the brakes, I would have been gloomily sitting in the birthday party hall. It is not that I don’t secretly crave for company to celebrate my ageing dilemma. That day. That day solely is responsible for me wanting to hang out with perpetual glee in that newspaper column with other martyrs of destiny.
*
The gastric juices in my bosses’ tummy had decided to revolt with passion and sincerity. For him, everybody was imminent fart – it is there, you know it is there, but it does not show up. My brain did not sense it. It was working on that school building project. How many class rooms should the ground floor have? Where do I place the recreation room? Should the assembly stage be planned around that big tree in the ground? My excitement to create a good environ for future leaders and robbers and leading robbers and robbing leaders was only matched by the fact that I was one week past that milestone – deadline. This erstwhile prison/civil war lingo is the reason why the front gate which should have faced the main road in the plan now sat comfortably over a municipal garbage collection centre.
**
In my defence, waste is life.
